


i try to picture me without you but i can't

by sky_blue_hightops



Series: Sun and Moon AU [7]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brothers, Gen, Magic, Moon Powers Varian (Disney), Protective Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider, Team Awesome (Disney: Tangled), Varian Needs a Hug (Disney), and gets one B)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_blue_hightops/pseuds/sky_blue_hightops
Summary: When he sees his brother again, he’s already packed what they need.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Varian
Series: Sun and Moon AU [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823434
Comments: 18
Kudos: 140





	i try to picture me without you but i can't

**Author's Note:**

> title from immortals by fall out boy.

When he sees his brother again, he’s already packed what they need.

Too many sleepless nights reading about...magic, and secrets, and history and who _knows_ what has him on edge. Eugene starts at the smallest things, his reflexes on overdrive - _did I put the books back in order? did anyone notice the library unlocked? how much do they know? how much do they know_ I _know?_ His thoughts run in circles. He barely sees Varian for days. He doesn’t sleep well for days.

Every little detail bugs him. His whole life feels like a knot he can’t untie no matter how long he pulls and thinks at it, like he’s missing some tiny piece that would let the whole ordeal finally fall into place in his mind. But the pages of books way older than he is blur under the candlelight, and for all his searching whatever’s missing never turns up. If only he knew what he was searching for…

See, it goes like this: the opal isn’t the kingdom emblem he thought they were all protecting. He’s always been warned it’s dangerous, sure, but never anything more than that. Nothing more than _you’ll know when you’re older, run along_ and _it’s merely very ancient and unstable, do not touch it, run along_. Always dismissed, never answered. Encouraged to swear his life to protect it, discouraged to question it at all.

He never thought to push until now. He should’ve _pushed_ before now.

Because it’s also like this: over the past few months his even usually quiet little brother has adopted an unusual level of silence. Varian looks exhausted right from when he wakes, and Eugene knows this because rare are the nights where Varian _doesn’t_ creak open his door after midnight and crawl into bed and clutch his older brother’s shirt and shake from weariness or (and this is a guess, because Varian won’t _say_ anything) nightmares. Rare are the nights without his little brother pressed against his side for wordless comfort, rare are the nights where Eugene doesn’t lie awake and wonder what (or who?) he’s protecting Varian from.

And, finally, this: near the end of the current month, almost when the moon hangs fullest in the sky, Varian disappears. 

Eugene spends the next few nights alone.

* * *

The books speak of old magic.

Eugene fiddles absently with the padlock he’d picked, the one that had held this book shut and buried its secrets. The text, while difficult to read, isn’t anything more than a basic yet old script originating from the Dark Kingdom itself, and he thinks with absent amusement this might be the only time his lessons have genuinely come in handy. His eyes pick out the interesting words - “power” and “life” and “eternity” - while his fingers trace inked sketches. Ancestors stare up at him, cradling lights in their palms with the glare reflected in their narrowed eyes. A sun and a moon smile at each other, reach out to each other, chase each other across several pages, and then-

The moon gleams on one page. The sun glitters on the other. The spine of the book yawns like a chasm between them, and he has the irrational urge to close the book and let the pages meet. Eugene shakes his head, frowning, dismissing the odd thought. The two separate pages nag at him for the rest of the day.

The books speak of old magic, but he begins to think this is much older than _old_.

* * *

“He must- he must _learn!_ ”

Eugene freezes in the dead of night. Silver slants across his path; he gingerly steps back into a shadow. The low tone of his father’s voice is unmistakable, if not barely audible, and he slows his breathing to better pick out the words.

“It’s his birthright. Centuries of history, and it _all_ hinges on if he’s ready or not-” His father sounds frustrated, biting the ends off his words and exhaling sharply, and Eugene would flinch if he were any closer. He resigns himself to twisting the hem of his tunic beyond recognition between his fingers, the fabric well-worn from the habit. He…well, Eugene _knew_ what was expected of him, as the Crown Prince, in the future. He’d heard the lectures and felt the disappointment. He’d thought up fanciful escape plans and daydreamed his own future so often the images are never far out of his reach, ready for any spare moment he’s got. But this cuts differently than his father’s usual breed of impatience. His words twist with what Eugene could almost call anger.

And… this anger sounds dangerous.

The silence after his father’s last statement continues on for so long he fears they’ve left, until another sigh breaks the quiet. “And the boy?”

“His powers are much stronger near the opal, your Majesty.” This voice bleeds no anger, holds nothing but a hint of weariness, a hint of concern. It’s Varian’s father, Quirin. Advisor. A stern figure in Eugene’s life, but never harsh; gentle in his words and his hands. “He trains as hard as he can, but...he won’t let go. Never fully.”

Eugene can almost _see_ the agitation knitting his father’s brow. “He _must_ break connections with this world if he’s ever to truly reach his potential, Quirin. He must work beyond his body and soul. The opal requires it all.” For a heartbeat, the air goes still. It’s as if not a breath is exchanged. There’s far too much weight in those words, and that nagging feeling of _missing something important_ tugs at the back of Eugene’s head. 

When the world snaps back into reality, it’s with a blow that shatters him into countless pieces. “If Eugene cannot learn to accept his place as king, and if Varian continues refusing his powers, they must be separated. For this to work, they _cannot_ be attached.”

* * *

Eugene moves on instinct through shoving plain clothes into bags, rifling through Varian’s chemicals, stowing a few precious books and items. All the plans he’s ever made rise up around him, meticulously constructed and ready to follow, but the only thing he can focus on is _we have to leave, we have to leave right_ **_now_** -

He doesn’t know when Varian will return. His younger brother’s never been absent for this long before - hours, yes, maybe a day, but never two at once, let alone five - and Eugene hasn’t figured out yet where they’re keeping him, and he doesn’t know how much he can carry, doesn’t know if Varian will be able to carry anything, and, and - 

He takes a deep breath. A quick inhale, a long exhale. He feels his lungs expand and does it again, and again, until his hands stop shaking and the grey noise bordering his vision recedes. The rough texture of the knapsack in his hands swims back into focus, and his feet feel like they’re touching the ground once more. A few more breaths, another shirt, another non-explosive flask, and he’s beginning to think he might be in control again.

Of course then the door jolts open and hits the wall jerkily, and then there’s a wild tangle of bright blue hair wiggling up and under his arms, cold hands gripping his shirt. Eugene breathes in and it’s the clear, simple scent of his brother’s clothes. The knot in his chest eases up almost all the way. He holds Varian closer, and they stand and sway slightly in the middle of the room. “Blue?”

A quiet hum in response. Eugene frees one arm to brush the hair back from Varian’s face and cup his cheek. Tired blue eyes halfheartedly track his movements, before slipping closed. “Sleep?” The knot tightens a little at the weakness in Varian’s voice. Eugene’s never felt so trapped before, even with his life of ridiculously high expectations, and he _doesn’t know what to do._

He doesn’t want to see what life as a king is like. He doesn’t want to know what it’ll feel like to have his brother torn from him. He doesn’t want to hear anymore soft, weary sobs; he doesn’t want to taste salt on his own tongue in the loneliest dark of his nights, when he lets the fear of _am I enough? can I protect him? will I ever be free?_ take over, even if just for a few minutes. But can he leave everything behind? Can they make it out in the unknown? Is what’s in the world honestly better than remaining here?

...He feels so trapped, and yet so scared to run.

“Almost, kiddo,” he whispers back. “I need you to hold on real tight for me, okay? Just for a bit.” He’s proud of the strength in his voice. Varian only nods, squeezing his arms tighter around Eugene’s chest as if to say _but I already am_. He breathes a laugh and ruffles at Varian’s hair, before picking up the younger boy under his arms and settling him into a proper hold. The knapsacks weigh almost nothing, but Varian weighs what feels like less. He wonders how many other little things he hasn’t noticed until now.

The castle halls are mercifully empty. Moonlight hits their path perfectly, pale light filling the exact spots Eugene needs to see in or step through. He’s not one for superstition, and it’s not luck, but he remembers the chase of the moon across those pages and the wisps of blue that fell away from it like water, steam, fabric; each soft, always moving, strong in their own right. Varian clutches at his collar and there’s a cold nose against Eugene’s neck and he thinks _it’s not luck; it can’t be, really, when I have my own moonlight._

The few guards he sneaks past aren’t paying much attention. All the castle inhabitants have no trouble with remaining wide awake late into the night ( _born to serve the moon_ , his father insists, which actually does sound really creepy when Eugene thinks about it), but boredom is a lullaby of its own and no one is expecting the Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom to escape the castle with an _entire child_ , so, really, it would be unfair to expect them to be at the top of their game. Eugene deems himself a very considerate rulebreaker and carefully closes doors behind himself. They’re going to have enough chaos to deal with in the morning, anyways.

The winding of the halls is a puzzle he knows like the back of his hand. The castle isn’t the obstacle, it never was - it’s what could be waiting for them outside it that gives Eugene pause. The fear rises to an almost paralyzing level for a brief moment, making him a little woozy, and he holds Varian tighter. He can do this, he _has_ to. They can’t stay here. They can’t stay here and still have each other, or still remain themselves. There’s only a few narrow passages between them and the outer walls, then the lower town, then plains as far as the horizon stretches in every direction. Eugene closes his eyes. _Four passages_. Just four.

He steps forward. Varian settles further against his collarbone, exhaling a soft breath in his near-sleep. He passes doors in quick succession, steals breaths of cold night air, and tracks the shadowy corners and the empty rooms for emergency hiding spots. Three, two, one, and just like that, he’s at a window.

 _For the grand unknown, it sure is a lot of flat nothing,_ he thinks, and shifts Varian’s weight in his arms. The ground below is all the same beige-grey, scattered with dry, shaggy grass. Easy for running, but also easy to be spotted. They’ll have to cross as much of it as possible in the darkness before daylight. 

In the corner of his eye, Varian’s hair is still that bright, bright blue. Eugene pulls a cloak carefully from one bag, tucking the hood securely around his brother’s head and face, and prays it’ll be enough. 

He can see just hints of dawn on the horizon, out across the flat expanse that surrounds the only home he’s ever known - and remembers the few years Varian spent growing up somewhere else, somewhere far away, and remembers the Corona crest and the two illustrations in his book, the sun and the moon, and wonders if just maybe he might have the chance to close the book and let the pages meet after all. The unknown sure is scary, especially once he’s fully realized how little to him is _known_ , but the line where the dry dirt meets the wide-open sky is their only escape. They can’t find safety here, not together, not anymore.

Eugene takes a deep breath of the stiff twilight wind and thinks _well, there’s no turning back now._


End file.
